


Slaves to Any Semblance of Touch

by JadeCharmer



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Roommates, Smut, Swearing, a few emotions, also swearing in the author notes, and a lot of talking during smut about things that aren't smut, and some feelings, not just the story, really nothing but smut, whoops.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 10:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JadeCharmer/pseuds/JadeCharmer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Bucky!” Darcy curses, fumbling to cover herself, even though the damage is done. Course, she manages to knock the dish towel on the counter down to the floor because she’s flustered and Darcy’s already a complete klutz even when she isn’t flustered. She’s left ducking down, mostly naked, behind the island counter, peering over the top.</i>
</p><p>  <i>Darcy flushes, heat beating fire engine red in her face. At least they're in a blackout, so the only light filtering in is from the glow of the street lamps and the passing traffic. If there’s any justice, the light from outside won’t extend enough for Bucky to be able to see it. Darcy’s karma, though, clearly, is shit tonight so the bastard can probably see it all. Which, reminds her, oh, yeah, naked and cowering behind a kitchen cabinet, like a totally legitimate adult.</i></p><p> <i>Fucking karma.</i></p><p>That roommate AU I have no intention of writing, but somehow manage to keep writing little stories in the pretend verse I have set up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slaves to Any Semblance of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> So this was written for a prompt fill requesting Bucky x Darcy and flashing. Clearly, this was going to lead to smut, because why wouldn't this lead to smut? 
> 
> Also, this is a modern AU roommate fic which, I don't even know, guys. This might be the end of me because this particular idea is one I've been playing with for awhile, torn between wanting to do it and not wanting to touch the story with a ten foot pole because I think it could easily consume me. Roommates with a nice dose of friends to lovers trope, my kryptonite. You can see how this is an issue, right? Anyway, so despite my claim that I'm NOT writing this story, I keep, somehow finding myself writing things that could fit in this story. Because of course I do.
> 
> Title is from a Hozier song, because I always default to song lyrics when I can't think of titles and this happened to be playing at the time of posting. Lucky, right?
> 
> Finally, many thanks go out to dopemixtape for all her help and support on this, most of which consisted of me saying this was going to kill me, and her response somewhere along the lines of, "fuck off and keep writing."
> 
> As always, thanks for reading!

It’s the fifth day in a row of record breaking heat in New York. 

Five days of sweltering, humid misery.

Between the rolling blackouts and the living room window air conditioning unit from the 80s, it’s pretty much impossible to keep a climate anywhere near humane in Darcy’s apartment. Relief is only finally granted, somewhat, the third day in, when her roommate, Bucky, and his friend, doubling as a highly abused pack mule, Steve come back, both carrying two boxed up fans each.

“The last in New York,” Bucky proclaims as he sets two up in the living room and one in his bedroom.

Thankfully, because she totally lucked out on roommates, Bucky’s nice enough to gift the last to Darcy to use in her room. She feels a little guilty taking it since Steve, who is leaving empty-handed, was the one who actually did the work of hunting down every last possible store in the five borough area. They managed to find luck at a sketchy, possibly black market but who cares at this point, pharmacy. Fortunately, Darcy is able to use the fan guilt-free, because of course she takes it, she’d be a fool not to, when Steve waves her off and says he has two of his own still down in car.

Their apartment might sound like a hurricane is rolling through but at least the temperature is now somewhat manageable. Though, the second either of them walk through the door at the end of the day is completely unbearable since they leave the fans off while at work. Darcy doesn’t want to imagine what their electricity bill is gonna look like at the end of the month at this rate. She might as well start selling organs on the black market if they decided to leave the tornado running while at work.

It’s late at night, and the heat still unbearable. Darcy is in bed, the covers striped down to just the fitted sheet. Everything else is unceremoniously dumped in a claustrophobic pile on the floor at the foot of the bed.

The fans on the nightstands framing the bed give a valiant effort at attempting to create something of a cross breeze. If she lies still enough, she’s almost to the point of not being unbearably disgusting after a long and miserable day.

Once she managed to make it home from her ten block tromp at her subway stop after dinner with some friends, Darcy immediately hightailed it for the shower. It was an attempt at cleaning both the disgusting mess of the day from her skin and to cool her body for the night. Once out of the shower, she skipped most of her normal pajamas, opting only for a simple pair of cotton underwear.

Her plan works for about a grand total of ten minutes.

Just as she is about to close her eyes, finally feeling about two levels less than puddle of goo, which is the bare minimum to even attempt sleeping, everything goes still. The fans stop, the lights outside her window from the surrounding buildings go dim, and she can hear the beeps from various appliances around the apartment as they shut off.

Darcy throws herself over to her side, scrunching her pillow up to her face to muffle her yell of absolute frustration. She even manages to give the pillow a solid thump for good measure because she is just that completely and utterly done at this point.

Five days.

Five days of crappy sleep in an overheated fifth floor walk up. Five days of leaving in the morning, already feeling gross, and coming back, somehow feeling even more disgusting. Five days of dinners with Bucky solely consisting of whatever takeout the other manages the energy to pick up or, for two of the five nights, popsicles from the freezer because that’s the only thing that even sounds remotely appetizing.

Of course, having to see Bucky’s tongue flash out, quick and tantalizing, is the reason Darcy puts the kabosh on popsicles for the third night. There’s only so much temptation and torment a woman under a certain amount of weather induced stress can be expected to endure. The fact that Bucky, who already pretty much has an exhibitionist streak a mile wide, now strips down to his boxers as soon as he enters the apartment is already playing havoc on her ill-advised crush; she doesn’t need additional fodder for her fantasies that show just how damn dexterous Bucky can be with his tongue. 

Because she’s pretty sure sleeping with a roommate isn’t gonna end well, especially if it’s just a friends with benefits thing. Darcy knows herself well enough to know that if they were sleeping together as a casual thing, she’d end up in a pile of an emotionally wrecked mess the first time Bucky brought a girl home. And she also knows herself well enough to realize she’s not actually going to have any dating game when there’s the idea of sex and comfort and everything she needs already right at home, even if it isn’t a relationship.

Wouldn’t matter much, anyway, because there’s no way she can sleep with a guy that she has feelings for if he doesn’t feel the same way. That road is just paved with misery. 

With a frustrated and exhausted sigh, Darcy flops back on the bed. She’s already feeling stifled by the still air, even though she’s pretty sure part of that is all in her head. Reaching out and fumbling around her dresser, she finally locates and brings the water glass to her lips. Though it’s far from refreshing at this point, she completely drains the lukewarm water. 

With yet another sigh, this one resigned, she swings her legs over the bed because there’s no way she’s gonna make it through the rest of the scheduled blackout without more water.

She pauses by her dresser, briefly toying with the idea of putting on a shirt, even just a tank top, but it’s just a quick trip to the kitchen. Darcy looks down at the options and wrinkles her nose. The idea of having to put on any more clothes over her clammy skin sounds like one of the levels of hell at this point. 

Nope. Not happening.

Besides, Darcy reasons, closing the dresser drawer, Bucky’s already crashed out. She saw him heading that way when she walked in the door, the man merely giving her a lackluster wave over his shoulder and what basically amounted to a grunt for a greeting on his way to his room.

Definitely not his most eloquent moment, but since he probably only made it home about half an hour before she did, and probably feels just as miserable, Darcy really couldn’t blame him.

Cautiously, Darcy bites her lower lip and opens the door to her bedroom a crack. She pauses to listen, but the apartment is completely still so she knows Bucky isn’t up watching TV. It’s a bad habit he has when he can’t sleep. One Darcy is starting to join him in. Though, yeah, she would totally rather be bundled up in her warm bed, she also kind of likes sitting up with Bucky late at night. There’s a peace and vulnerability that seems to come in the dark. 

Darcy listens a little longer, just in case. The only noise is from the city outside, still alive and awake and beyond cranky at this point.

Fuck it, she thinks and pulls the door wide open. She walks down the hallway, past the shared bathroom and Bucky’s closed bedroom door. The living room is surprisingly well-lit from the combination of traffic and the light streaming in from the full moon. 

Darcy fills the glass from the sink, drains it, and refills to take back to her room. When she turns around, she jumps, yelping. There’s a sleepy Bucky standing on the opposite side of the island counter, watching her with amusement.

“Fuck. Bucky!” Darcy curses, fumbling to cover herself, even though the damage is done. Course, she manages to knock the dish towel on the counter down to the floor because she’s flustered and Darcy’s already a complete klutz even when she isn’t flustered. She’s left ducking down behind the island counter, peering over the top.

“Well, the words are ones I like,” Bucky says, cocking an eyebrow. “The tone is completely wrong, though.”

“Hilarious,” Darcy retorts dryly, rolling her eyes. “What are you even doing here?”

Bucky raises his hand, demonstrating his own empty water glass that Darcy hadn’t even seen up to this point in time. Not that she could be blamed, honestly, what with the whole her being naked and ducking for cover and Bucky being half naked and not giving two shits about it, per usual. 

Her eyes absolutely do not take advantage of the fact that the light from the street is wrapped around Bucky. She doesn’t notice, at all, the scattering of hair across his chest, leading down some abs that are definitely getting more defined. Darcy didn’t realize he’d been picking up his gym membership again. Not that she’s looking or outlining the lines of those abs with her eyes. Or the fact that he’s clad in soft cotton boxer briefs that cling just right to every line of his body.

Nope. None of that. At all.

God, she’s such a fucking liar.

“Thirsty, though, it is my apartment, too, Lewis,” Bucky points out, drawing Darcy’s eyes back to his face. Not that they weren’t there the entire time, of course. “You can wander around in your underwear, but I can’t? That’s a horrible double-standard.” 

Bucky shakes his head, hair tumbling in his eyes. He’s recently cut it, finally, but the locks are still long enough to tempt Darcy into wanting to run her fingers through them.

Darcy rolls her eyes again. Terrible habit, one only brought out more the longer she’s around Bucky. “Yes, because that’s totally stopped you before. You’ve spent this entire week half-clothed.”

“Complaining?” Bucky counters, with that little shit of a grin.

Darcy flushes, heat beating fire engine red in her face. If there’s any justice, the light from outside won’t extend enough for Bucky to be able to see it. Darcy’s karma, though, clearly, is shit tonight so the bastard can probably see it all. Which, reminds her, oh, yeah, naked and cowering behind a kitchen cabinet, like a totally legitimate adult.

Fucking karma.

She lifts a hand high enough over the counter to make a shooing motion. ”Either go away or turn around so I can sulk off to my room and quietly die in embarrassment. And,” she adds, holding up a finger, waggling it between them, “we’ll never talk about this again.”

Bucky leans against the wall, crossing his arms over that broad chest. There’s enough moonlight streaming in, along with the glow from the street lights and the traffic going by, for her to make out his features. Not that it helps much, because his face is shuttered, more closed off than she’s ever had him be around her. She shifts her weight nervously, hating that she can’t read him with the ease she normally does. That he doesn’t feel familiar to her in this moment.

“We could do that,” he says eventually. “Or…” he trails off, suddenly and uncharacteristically hesitant. It has Darcy curious.

“Or?” she prods, lifting her body higher so she can lean her arms on the counter, keeping everything below her armpits and the upper part of her chest still covered.

“Or we could not ignore it,” Bucky says, simply. Darcy can feel her heart thudding in her chest, her brow furrowed as she puzzles through his words, not sure if she’s following him to the correct assumption.

Bucky shrugs his shoulders, almost a nervous twitch. He lifts one hand to run through his hair, flattening it, and Darcy can see the flash of the red star he has tattooed on his inner bicep. She knows there’s a matching one on his other side, one white and one red, though she doesn’t know the decision behind the color choice. She’s never asked. She’s also never had the chance to take a close, intimate look at those tattoos and she really, really wants that opportunity.

She wonders if maybe, possibly, this is that chance. 

She really, really is hoping, against all odds, that this is that chance.

God, she’s going to feel just embarrassed and shot to hell if this isn’t that chance. Like, not even just all the ice cream required shot to hell. More like the recovery and pride tending that goes something along the lines of bad liquor and questionable dicks from that bar Jane won’t go to anymore. That type of shot to hell.

“Yeah? And what would happen then?” she asks, heartbeat thumping loudly in her ears. All the outside noise, from the yelling on the street to the honking of cars as they pass by, seems to fade away, leaving just the two of them and this rapidly building tension. She holds his gaze steady, licking her lips before she speaks. “If we didn’t ignore it.”

Darcy swallows hard, holding her breath while she waits for Bucky’s reply, feeling like she’s on the edge of a cliff, looking over. Deciding whether or not to jump.

“Then I take you to the living room, since it’s the only room in this whole place we won’t suffocate,” Bucky tells her with a small beguiling smile, his voice pitched low. Low enough to start wreaking havoc on her stomach, twisting and warming. Darcy presses her thighs together as she swallows, shifting her weight with building nerves. 

Bucky’s eyes meet hers, almost like he knows what she’s doing behind that counter. “And I bury my face between those legs like I’ve wanted to do since you moved in here.”

Darcy inhales sharply, even as her chest clenches tight. Yes, dear god, yes, she mentally pleads even as part of her thinks she must have finally succumbed to heat stroke and this isn’t happening, it’s all just a fevered dream.

Bucky takes a step closer, small enough to not close her in if she wants to walk away, but large enough to feel monumental. “And I’ll see if I can get you to do those little whimpers, like when you bite into a piece of dessert you’ve been craving. Or maybe those sighs of relief when you get home at the end of the day, collapsing on the couch next to me, and I finally have the excuse to throw an arm around you, to touch you in a way that I can pass off as platonic.”

He huffs, almost bitterly amused. “I gotta lot of those with you,” he tells her with a small, self-patronizing shrug. “Excuses and reasons to just brush against you, to be near you, to keep you against me just a little bit longer and carry you with me through the day.”

She can hear him swallow, close enough now to see the bob of his Adam’s apple. His hands are clenched to his side and his body is stiff, almost as if bracing for a hit. It’s not the Bucky she knows in pick-up form, in heavy flirtation mode. It’s Bucky putting everything on the line, gambling for more.

It’s only fair that she does the same. 

Darcy looks over the metaphorical cliff and decides to jump.

She stands up, slowly, watching his face the entire time, nerves in her throat. Ready to stalk off to her room at the slightest balk because pride and the adrenaline rushing through her veins right now are only gonna carry her so far.

The look on his face, though, has her breath catching for an entirely different reason. The admiration, the appreciation, is frank on his features. In this moment, with his eyes roving over her body, practically a physical caress, Darcy has never felt both more vulnerable and more beautiful.

Bucky doesn’t move from his spot. Neither advancing or retreating. Leaving all the power in her control, which gives her a heady feeling. She slowly walks over to him, each step measured. Darcy has to resist the urge to cover her breasts, feeling so damn exposed right now. She can feel them bounce and sway with each step, enhancing every insecurity Darcy’s ever felt in her life.

When she’s finally in front of Bucky, five, seven steps that feel all of five or seven miles, Darcy looks up at his face as she takes his hands in hers, pulling them to rest on her hips. His hands settle light on her skin, warm and rough, promise written in the touch. Her skin tingles underneath, heightened and aware of every single sensation. She practically jumps when his thumbs stroke against her, tracing the lines of her hip bones, one brush, then another.

Darcy leans up, eyes on Bucky the entire time. Bucky’s gaze flicks down over her breasts, appreciative in a way that has Darcy all too aware of the growing wetness between her legs, then back up. He closes the distance.

Darcy’s thought about kissing Bucky. More than she should. More than she’s ever gonna be willing to admit. If he’s tentative, if he’s authoritative, if he’s gonna take charge or let her direct. 

It takes about five seconds of Bucky’s lips on hers to realize none of that matters.

The kiss, soft and tentative at first, like asking permission, reassurance, giving an out, quickly grows. Taking control. Like nothing else matters except opening her mouth so Bucky can kiss her deeper, can keep kissing her. 

Darcy can feel his hands slide from her waist to the middle of her back, pulling her closer so the front of her body is completely melded to his. She can feel the scrape of the hair on his chest against her breasts and, god, that feels so good. Darcy wiggles, moving enough to keep chasing that sensation, that teasing of her nipples.

She’s wrapped up entirely in Bucky and, hearing his sharp inhale of breath, Darcy feels like victory.

“Oh, thank god,” Bucky breathes when they break apart.There’s a vulnerability coming through in his tone that makes Darcy’s heart ache. 

But, now, at least she felt a little less alone in her own terror, with her heart racing in her chest. Excitement, nerves, exhilaration, all meshed together and all Darcy wants is to kiss Bucky again. 

His face presses into her hair and she can hear him take a deep inhale before pulling back, eyebrows raised. “Because that would have been really awkward in the morning otherwise.”

Darcy ducks her head and laughs softly. Her gaze is snagged by watching her fingers run up and down the muscles in Bucky’s arm. She can feel them flex and shift under her attention as his grip tightens on her waist, pulling her close.

“Still might be,” she points out, finally looking at him. 

Even as she worries where this might go, how it could go bad, Darcy can’t bring herself to stop touching Bucky now that she can. She feels more relaxed, more normal and right in this moment, despite being half naked and wrapped around Bucky in the middle of the kitchen, than she has six months into a relationship. 

Bucky’s eyes crinkle, his earlier apprehension gone like it never existed. Instead, he’s got that self-assured, cocky grin back in place, practically looking like he’s won a fight. 

“Nah,” he tells her. “Wanna know why? Because we’re already good together. Sure, this changes things, but it makes them better. We’re still us, still Darcy and Bucky. Still gonna get pissed over towels in the bathroom and no milk in the fridge. All that generic bullshit,” he adds with a hand wave. 

He dips his head closer, forehead resting against Darcy’s. His eyes, vibrant blue, meet hers and she can’t help but smile back at the pure happiness she sees in them. “But we’ll still laugh together, too, and that’s what’ll get us through anything that might be awkward.”

“Are these those smooth moves I’ve been hearing about, Barnes?” Darcy teases, wrapping her arms around the back of his neck. “Promising me that, well, yep, things are gonna be awkward, but, hey, we’ll just laugh our way through it?”

Bucky doesn’t say anything, but definitely seems to read the challenge in her words. With a wicked grin, he ducks his head, brushing his lips against the side of her neck, down to her collarbone. Feather light, teasing and tormenting in a way Darcy wasn’t aware was even possible. She can feel the scrape of his way past five o’clock scruff, making her moan. She tips her head back, giving him full access, wanting more because it teases her just right.

“You want seduction?” Bucky murmurs against her skin, amusement warm in his voice. “I don’t know if you can handle that, Lewis.”

“Dunno, seems like a lot of big talk at this point,” Darcy teases, wrapping her fingers through the strands of hair at the back of his head.

She yelps when Bucky suddenly flips them around, maneuvering them so Darcy is one with her back up against the wall. His hands slip under her thighs, pulling them up to wrap her legs around his waist with her back supported by the wall. With a wicked grin, he presses in close to her open legs, his hard on rocking, slow and teasing, against her center.

How the hell had she missed that until now when she was wrapped in his arms?

“Stop being a jerk,” Darcy orders, running her fingers through his hair to hold his head still, lips teasing against that spot on her neck that’s just right. And, of course Bucky would already find it, Christ. She whimpers as he bites lightly, soothing with his tongue.

“You like me when I’m a jerk,” he points out. 

“No, I only ever see you when you’re being a jerk,” Darcy counters.

“Not true,” Bucky replies, his fingers dipping under the waistband of her panties. His fingers brush against her skin of her lower belly, never dipping lower. Teasing, like everything he’s been doing tonight and it’s starting to drive her a little crazy. “I detoured ten blocks out of my way home to get you the ice cream you like from that overpriced shop just to surprise you on Tuesday.”

“Mmm,” Darcy moans, both in agreement to Bucky’s words and to where Bucky’s hand is going. She raises her hips, shifting, trying to direct him, but he doesn’t move. “Fine,” she amends. “You’re not always a jerk, but it doesn’t matter because I like you when you’re a jerk anyway.”

Bucky rewards her by finally slipping his fingers between her legs, pressing against her in a way that’s anything but teasing. It’s knowing and demanding and has Darcy’s head falling back, moaning as his fingers start to move in small, concentric circles around her clit.

“Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart,” Bucky whispers against her skin. “Gonna lay you out so I can finally see you. Bout damn near killed me when I walked in the kitchen and saw you, Darce.”

“Bout damn near killed myself,” Darcy mutters. She can feel Bucky’s huff of amusement. 

Her fingers thread through his hair as his mouth moves lower, kissing down her neck and to her chest. His tongue darts out to circle her nipple, licking until it hardens in his mouth. Bucky’s fingers keep up their slow pattern on her clit, enough to keep her hips moving, seeking more, but not enough to actually get her off. She jerks her hips forward, seeking more contact, but Bucky’s other hand comes up to her inner thigh, keeping her from being able to thrust against those fingers.

“You’re a tease, Barnes,” she complains. 

He shrugs, fingers slowing down to almost an impossible snail’s pace. Bucky’s grin is wicked. “Told you we were gonna go to the living room before I got you off,” he reminds her.

Darcy unwraps her legs from around his waist, dropping them abruptly to the floor. She wraps her hand around his wrist and pulls his hand out of her panties, eyebrow raising in a challenge in response to Bucky’s own amused expression. 

He’s watching, mouth slightly open that she can see his tongue moving to poke out against his cheek, daring, challenging, and alluring all at the same time. Darcy drops his hand and steps away from him, swaying her hips. Partly an attempt at being seductive, partly because she’s so damn wet right now and if she rubs her thighs together, she’s gonna have to stop walking just to bury her fingers inside herself to get off. 

“Then let’s go,” Darcy tells him, jutting her chin forward as she steps out of her panties. She leaves them on the floor because she has better things to do right now than find the hamper. 

Darcy’s eyes catch on Bucky, the way his pupils are blown as he stares at her. They way he  
subconsciously licks his lips. The way his boxer briefs are already slanted on his thighs, that teasing V of his hip bones that Darcy wants to lick and bite. The cotton of his boxer briefs is clinging to his dick, already hard and starting to drag down the band. Darcy’s eyes trace over the outline, hands aching to follow the path.

Yes. She has better things to do. Better things like getting Bucky’s cock out of his boxers and into her.

Darcy turns around and walks away before they end up naked on the kitchen floor. She calls out behind her. “Keep me waiting and I’ll just get myself off.”

She barely makes it into the living room with a rather languid pace when she feels Bucky’s arms wrap around her waist. Darcy laughs as he pulls her back against him, burying his face in the side of her neck. She presses back, firmly against his still cotton covered dick, enjoying the sensation of how soft the fabric covering his erection is slipping against her. 

“Wanna see that,” Bucky tells her as they side step their way into the living room. Their legs barely manage to not tangle and trip only through Bucky’s force of will. If they were forced to rely on Darcy’s coordination, they would have been in a pile on the floor two steps into the room.

“Hmm?” Darcy asks. She reaches around behind her to where Bucky’s erection is firmly pressed against her, wrapping her hand around his dick. The fabric is damp at the head when she runs her thumb over the top, twisting her hand just enough to tease him like he was teasing her. Enough to keep him aroused, not enough to give him what he needs.

Bucky moans. 

“Wanna see you get yourself off,” he tells her. “Not tonight, but I wanna see it. Wanna see you with your fingers teasing, see how you can make yourself feel so good. Wanna see the power in it, because I know you, sweetheart, I know you’re gonna take control and take what you want. I wanna watch you do it.”

Darcy strokes his cock one last time before she lets go, turning around in his arms. 

“Wanna watch you, too,” she tells him, realizing that, yeah, she does. She could step back right now and watch him wrap his hand around his cock,stroking until he’s coming. Watch the way his face will go still, his jaw drop as he chases that release.

Bucky grins. “It’s a date, then.”

“Pretty sure dinner and a movie is standard first date,” Darcy can’t help but interject, amused.

“What about this has been standard so far?” Bucky asks and Darcy silently concedes the point. Bucky presses a kiss to her lips, long and close enough to be intimate, but not enough to have the demanding heat from the kitchen. 

Already slow and comfortable and it’s only the second kiss they’ve shared, Darcy realizes, heart thumping in her chest.

Which is also something she can’t think about now, otherwise she’s gonna freak herself out. Over how fast this is going, over how it doesn’t feel fast, it just feels normal and natural, like the next logical progression. Over how, if this falls apart, she loses one, if not her actual, best friend.

Over the conclusive end if this doesn’t fall apart. Which is much too heady of a thought to be having at this moment.

Darcy wraps her arms tighter around Bucky, the man oblivious to her thoughts, thankfully. She forces the thoughts away because, well, she’s already here. This is only going to end one of two ways, now, so she might as well enjoy it.

“You ok?” Bucky asks, rubbing his hands up and down her shoulders reassuringly. He searches her face and she feels bad for the distraction when she sees the worry in the crinkle of his eyes. 

Her heart feels lighter, for some reason, though, because it’s still Bucky. Still the asshole who’s gonna steal the last piece of garlic bread, but will make sure she gets all the corner brownies, her favorite. Still the guy who’s gonna be her pillow and blanket on movie nights and give her a hard time about her pick, but get caught up in the story all the same. 

She presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Yeah,” Darcy says, speaking the absolute truth. Darcy hopes he can see the truth in her face, in the way she’s holding him close. His shoulders, which she didn’t even realize tensed up until they sag before her eyes in relief. 

The moment feels palpable, like this could be the time to start talking about this whole thing, but Darcy doesn’t want to, not now when she finally has it straight in her head. Instead, she wants to chase that light-hearted fun feeling from earlier, that thrill and anticipation finally becoming reality.

“So, what else do you want to do to me?” she teases, trying to bring them back on track. She’s running her hands up and down his broad chest, looking up at him under her lashes.. “Cuz I definitely have a lot of things I want to do to you, too.”

“Yeah?” Bucky grins. “Been thinking about it a lot, have you?” His voice dips lower. “Gonna tell me about when you were thinking about it? Did you get yourself off thinking ‘bout what my mouth would feel like on you? How I want to whisper so many damn dirty things in your ear to see if I can get you to scream while I fuck you?”

“Fuck, you really like using your mouth a lot, don’t you? Bastard,” Darcy comments before raising her eyebrow in challenge, cocking her head. “You any good with it besides running it?”

“That a subtle hint?” he asks, moving her backwards.

“I think of it more as a challenge than a hint. You were the one that brought it up anyway. It’s what got this whole thing rolling,” Darcy replies as she feels the couch hit the back of her legs. 

“You standing naked in the kitchen is what finally got this whole thing rolling,” Bucky tells her. Darcy sinks down into the couch cushions, Bucky following. But he doesn’t stop there and continues to pull her down to the thick carpet spread out over the hardwood floor.

“Not the most comfortable,” he acknowledges, apologetic. He’s leaning over her, hand resting on her bare stomach. She can feel him lightly tracing outlines, but she can’t tell what they are. Almost feel like letters, like a confession. “But my room is a hot box of suffocation and human misery right now.”

“Same,” Darcy tells him. “And there’s no way I’m stopping this now, so stop worrying and get back to what you were doing,” she adds with a wave. 

Bucky leans down and presses a kiss to her stomach, looking up at her as cocks a grin. “What was I doing? I just remember you complaining.”

“Usually something to avoid when you get a girl in your bed, Barnes,” Darcy glares down at him as he settles against her. His hands wrap around her waist, thumbs rubbing against her skin.

“Gonna have to fix that, then,” he murmurs as he moves lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses the entire way. Darcy’s legs fall open and Bucky adjusts his own body so he’s lying in the middle of them. She feels bared to his gaze, open and vulnerable. But the way Bucky keeps touching her, like he can’t stop, is reassuring and so fucking arousing. 

Bucky’s five o’clock shadow rasps against her inner thighs, making her inhale sharply and shiver. 

“Like that?” he asks, voice low. And he does it again before Darcy can nod that, god, yeah, she really likes that.

“Gonna have to find out where else that feels good for you, sweetheart,” Bucky tells her. He brushes his lips over the sensitive skin. She could spend the rest of the night torn between this torment, the sharp and tantalizing scrape of his whiskers against her soft skin, leaving sensitized red skin in their wake, only to be soothed by Bucky’s lips.

All too soon, Bucky’s hands move down to her upper thighs, squeezing lightly before he lifts them over his shoulders. Darcy lets her legs settle where he places them, unsure at first, pretty positive that it can’t be a good position for Bucky. But she goes along with it when Bucky runs his hands up and down in a reassuring manner.

She forgets all about any worries about this being uncomfortable the moment Bucky’s tongue presses against her clit, circling in that slow teasing motion just like his fingers did in the kitchen.

Darcy leans up to look down. Her hands move almost on their own, burying themselves in the locks of his hair. His head between her legs, fuck, just the sight is so stimulating, she can’t help but clench her legs with need. His tongue teases her clit but it’s not enough, she needs something inside her to clench on. Her hips roll and her muscles flutter and clench, finding nothing. She feels so wet and empty.

Bucky’s tongue dips lower, slipping inside her and, though it’s not enough, not nearly thick enough for what she wants, it still sends a shock through her system. Darcy’s head drops back as he flicks inside her. Her hands drop from his hair and clench tight in the fibers of the rug, needing something to hold onto. Because if she doesn’t, she’s going to end up with her hands on the back of Bucky’s head, pressing his face harder against her center, urging him deeper.

“More,” she demands, rolling her hips. “Need more, give me more, please.”

Which, apparently, are the magic words. Bucky pulls his mouth back, which is completely the opposite of what Darcy wants, only to replace it with two fingers curling deep inside her. His mouth moves back to her clit, teasing and tormenting and driving her so close.

He places a kiss on the inside of her thigh before looking up at her. Darcy can see his eyes watching her, watching every play of need roll across her face, arousal lighting up his features in return. His eyes are wide, dark with need, and the contact is almost more arousing than his fingers twisting inside her. 

“Come on, Darce. Come for me. Scream, let me hear you. Wanna hear you, baby, wanna hear you fall apart. Wanna hear how good it is for you,” Bucky urges, adding a third finger. “You look so beautiful. Can’t stop watching you, watch my hand inside you. Can feel how wet you are around my fingers, so fucking good.”

Bucky’s words, along with the way his fingers twist just right inside her, thumb on her clit, send Darcy over the edge. She clenches around him, moaning out his name. One of her hands comes around to cover his between her legs, her other hand grabbing his free one, almost like she needs an anchor.

Darcy takes a deep breath, eyes that she didn’t realize had closed popping open to see Bucky with his cheek resting against her upper thigh. His hand, wrapped in hers, is pressed against her outer leg and, when he notices her watching him, he squeezes it once, briefly. His thumb is stroking over the stretch of skin between her thumb and forefinger, grounding her. She can feel his hand shifting between her legs and, with a rush of embarrassment, lets go so he can pull out of her.

“You looked so good, sweetheart,” Bucky tells her, dropping her other hand to climb up her body. He kisses her and she doesn’t object, deepening the kiss and tasting herself on his tongue. Bucky’s hands are making themselves busy, rubbing up and down her sides, like he’s trying to find all the spots that hit her just right. The ones that make her weak in the knees and wet for him. 

Suddenly, he lets out a defeated groan, dropping his head to bury his face against her neck. Darcy runs her fingers through his hair, scratching at his head, even as she laughs.

“Problem?” she teases.

“Condoms,” Bucky mumbles regretfully against her skin. “Need to go get them because we’re shit at planning.”

“Do you want us to start keeping them in every room of the apartment?” Darcy replies, only half-sarcastic. Bucky raises his head to look at her and grins.

“Read my mind,” he tells her. Darcy rolls her eyes.

He presses a kiss to her neck, then, with hands on either side of her head, leverages himself up. Bucky pauses, though, at the top, before he gets off the floor, and bends his elbows just enough to bring himself back down to brush his lips against Darcy’s.

“Be right back. One minute,” he promises before pushing back up and off of the floor.

Darcy bites her lower lip as she watches him walk away, part of her wishing she could sink her teeth into the curve of that ass. His back is all lean muscle and fluid movements as he disappears into the dark.

Darcy briefly toys with moving this to one of the bedrooms, his or hers, she doesn’t care at this point, but all thoughts fly out of her head when Bucky returns less than a moment later. Still walking with that certain amount of natural swagger, only enhanced, more alluring and more confident by the fact that he’s doing it absolutely and enticingly naked.

Darcy’s eyes immediately scour his body when he steps into the light streaming in from outside the windows, down his body to where his cock is still hard. She clenches her thighs together, thinking how damn good it’s gonna feel when he’s finally, finally inside her.

Bucky pulls out one of the condoms from the box, dropping the rest on the couch where they scatter. He rips it open, pinching the tip and rolling it down over his dick. Darcy watches him the entire time, biting her lower lip, because this feels like a show just for her. She wants to run her tongue down the V of his hips to that cock, wants to take him in her mouth and see how fast she can get him to beg for release.

There’s an intense look on Bucky’s face, with his pupils blown and his eyes on her, as he starts to stroke his cock. Once, twice, Darcy watching the rise and fall of his hand, the way he twists over the head.

Darcy moves to her knees, placing herself directly in front of Bucky. He doesn’t say anything as she bends forward, placing her hand on his, thumbing over the top of his cock. She can hear him swear, softly, as he lets go, letting her take control. 

Darcy wraps her hand around the base, finding her own rhythm within a stroke or two that has Bucky groaning again. He doesn’t stop watching her, though, as she takes the head of his dick in her mouth, lips tight as she flicks and teases with her tongue. She pushes past the taste of the lube on the condom as she moves down, taking more of him in her mouth. 

Instead, she focuses on the weight of him against her tongue and the way Bucky’s hands are clenching against his sides. She uses her free hand to grab one, pulling it up to her shoulder so he has something to hold. His other hand follows and, acting on instinct and this crazy driving need Bucky stirs inside her, Darcy pulls that hand up to be buried in her hair, cupping the back of her head. 

It isn’t a position she’ll take with most guys, but with Bucky, she trusts him. She wants him holding her head, holding her to him, because she knows he’ll let her pull back if she needs to get some air. It’s a power thing, a control thing, a heady feeling at being able to share this, to give and take and bring each other higher off the pleasure.

With Bucky’s hand resting gently at the back of her head, she starts teasing him more and more. Pulling him out of her mouth to flick her tongue up and down the shaft even as she tightens her grip at the base. Her other hand cups his balls, a weight in her palm as she rolls her fingers over them.

Darcy flicks her eyes up to make sure Bucky is watching as she slowly takes his cock back in her mouth, deep enough that he can see how the head of it is poking against her cheek. His hand moves from her shoulder to her cheek, thumb swiping over the outline of his cock against her skin, groaning.

“Fuck, sweetheart, love your mouth but I gotta come and wanna do it buried inside you,” he apologizes, pushing gently at her shoulders. Darcy pulls back, letting his dick drop out of her mouth with a little bit of regret. She wants to make him fall apart like he did to her, drive him crazy with just her mouth. But, she rationalizes as she sinks back, she has time for that later.

Bucky follows her back to the floor, hand coming up behind her head to cushion her when she lays back down. He shifts between her legs and she can feel the way his cock is pressing against her, just barely inside her. Darcy moves her hips, urging him. Bucky’s cradling her head in her hands and, with a kiss to her lips, pushes inside her, finally. She arches against him until he’s fully inside, moving languidly. Slowly, intimately. His mouth is opened every so slightly, breathing heavy in a way that has nothing to do with exertion.

For the first time all night, Bucky is silent outside of a moan or a sigh, and that speaks more than any words he could say. 

The sight of this man, hot and hard and heavy above her, wanting her, falling apart for her, makes Darcy shudder and pull him deeper inside. She clenches around him, tightening her muscles because she needs him to stay there, stay deep and close.

When he comes, it’s the first time he speaks since he buried himself inside her. A litany of tenderness falls from his lips in a whisper, telling her how good she feels wrapped around his cock, how much he wants her, how much he’s gonna need to do this again, over and over, how he makes her want to come until she’s boneless. 

How beautiful she looks and how he can’t get over it, how it takes him by surprise every single second that she’s with him, here and now.

Darcy is vibrating with need over those words, over the expression in his face and how good he feels, so close to her own release again. Bucky stays buried inside her while he brings his fingers to her clit, pushing her over the edge once again.

They stay still for a few moments after, Bucky’s head pressed against Darcy’s, both of them just breathing. Eventually, Bucky is the one to pull away, only after a quick kiss and a promise to be right back. Darcy nods, too content and satisfied to even worry about moving at this point

When he comes back after tossing the condom, Bucky lays down next to Darcy, immediately drawing her back into his arms.

“Wish the electricity wasn’t out. Wanna see you, all of you,” Bucky mutters. “Though can’t really complain the way the shadows are dancing ‘cross your skin. Such a tease when I can see the outline of your breast,” he says, his hand tracing the exact outline, his thumb brushing over her nipple, “but then the rest disappears into the dark.”

“If the electricity wasn’t out, we probably wouldn’t have made it here,” Darcy points out. Bucky’s shaking his head before she even finishes her sentence.

“We would have,” he says, adamantly, shifting so his body is covering hers. “Might not have been tonight, but we would have wised up at some point. One of us would have eventually pushed, would have had the guts to not pass up the possibility of a good thing.”

“You seem so confident,” Darcy says, flabbergasted. 

She still feels so adrift, like she’s spiralling and trying to gain traction in whatever this is, that it’s all she can do to keep up here in the moment. She’s already had, and overcome, her brief freakout moment thinking of the future.

But Bucky, he just seems so calm and relaxed and centered, like the fucking zen poster boy of control.

“I’m not,” he confesses with a shake of his head. “I’m just relieved. Every date you went on since living here, always figured that was it, lost my chance.”

Darcy’s brow furrow, remembering back to those not really all the numerous instances. Her dating life, well, while not completely dead, is definitely about a month away from needing life support. 

Not the point.

The point is, she remembers Bucky sitting on the couch when she’s about to leave, telling her she looks beautiful and is gonna knock ‘em dead. She remembers him making breakfast the next morning while she goes over, in painful but hilarious detail, just how terrible the date ended up going.

She remembers enjoying those breakfasts, hair messed up and flat on one side from her pillow, still in her pajamas, Bucky with his own hair a tangled mess and drinking coffee from that ridiculously large mug that takes half the pot to fill, and enjoying it more than any date she’s gone on.

“You never said anything,” she says slowly, still stuck back in her memories. Darcy shakes her head. “Never acted different.”

Though, really, what did she expect? Him to suddenly be broody and sulking on the couch? Ignoring her? Being petulant? That’s never been Bucky’s style and Darcy knows that. Bucky, he’s the sort that’s gonna put on a good front and keep everything that’s going on buried deep inside, where only he has to deal with the outcome and the emotions.

“‘Course not,” Bucky tells her, almost insulted. He shrugs. “Wasn’t ‘bout me. ‘m always just gonna want you happy and, if one of those guys managed to make you happy, then that was that.”

“You make me happy, you idiot,” Darcy informs him, tapping him lightly on the nose. Bucky grins, so warm and comfortable, like a sun-kissed lazy afternoon. “Most of the time, on those dates, all I could think was, ‘I can’t wait until I can tell Bucky about this.’ I even texted you during half of them, which is like the ultimate insult in dating etiquette.”

“True,” Bucky says. “Probably a good thing we’re not going on a real first date then, huh?” His expression turns suddenly serious. “Gonna, though. Gonna take you out, something you can get dressed up for because I love seeing your legs in stockings. Wanna run my hands up and down your legs whenever you wear them so you’re gonna be driving me crazy the whole night.”

“Love you in a dress shirt and pants,” Darcy replies with a fond smile. “Drives me just as crazy. Those gray pants, too, that you have, the ones that cup your ass just right. Totally a ‘hate to see you go, love to watch you leave’ pair of pants.”

“I’ll wear ‘em,” Bucky promises, laughing. His voice dips as his hand comes up to toy with her nipple, rolling it between his dexterous fingers. “‘Course, you could just have me naked whenever you want, too.”

“Oh, I’ll be taking advantage of that, too, don’t you worry,” Darcy promises. Her hands run down his sides, squeezing the ass that was just in question. She glances back over to the couch where the condoms are dumped in a mess, then back at Bucky, eyebrow raised. “Someone has a lot of plans for tonight.”

“Yep,” Bucky replies, moving his mouth down to Darcy’s other breast. His teeth tug on her nipple in time with his fingers, making Darcy arch into his mouth. His lips brush against the sensitive nub as he speaks, heat in his eyes gazing at her from under half-closed lashes. “Lotsa plans for you, sweetheart.”

Darcy threads her fingers through his hair, urging him to continue. “Oh, very on board with this,” she mumbles.

Eventually, at some point in time closer to dawn than to midnight, they fall asleep, only to wake up to the rumble of the air conditioner. Darcy’s angled so she gets the cold air blasting directly on her back. She shivers and presses in closer to Bucky, who wraps his arms around her and shifts them out of the direct line of fire.

His eyes pop open and Darcy can’t help but snuggle closer, tucked in under his chin against his chest.

“Mmm. Morning,” he says, brushing his lips to the top of her head. Darcy kisses his breastbone in response, both too comfortable to move and attempting to avoid the whole morning breath thing.

“Breakfast?” Bucky offers. “Pancakes and you can tell me how terrible your date was last night,” he teases then dips his head, raising an eyebrow. “Or is he a keeper?”

Darcy hums in response, about to say no, she would much rather stay where she is, when her stomach rumbles, clearly speaking for her. 

“Guess that’s a yes to food,” she deadpans.Darcy kisses him on the nose as she gets up to go grab a couple shirts, one for herself and one for Bucky. She’s pretty sure cooking and naked skin would be a bad situation. “As for the guy, dunno. You know I’m not the type to kiss and tell, Barnes.”

She throws a backwards glance just in time to see Bucky scramble up from the floor, giving chase as she laughs and runs towards her room. He wraps his arms around her, picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder with an ease that probably goes against every hardcore feminist principle, but that also does a warm wiggly heat in the pit of her belly. Bucky’s hand comes to rest on her ass, lightly swatting as he carries her down the hallway to her room.

Darcy shrieks even as she’s laughing, and can’t help but think that, yeah, he’s definitely a keeper.

Doesn’t stop her from reaching down to pinch his ass, though, in retribution.


End file.
